


Sun and Stories

by TheGweninator



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Books, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Humorous Ending, Inner Dialogue, Reading, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGweninator/pseuds/TheGweninator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on the road, The Inquisition breaks camp and Inquisitor Trevelyan takes the rare opportunity to steal a moment of privacy for herself. But of course, nothing good lasts for long...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun and Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute little bit of fluff inspired by a nice, sunny day.

The buckles of the thin bedroll I’d “borrowed” opened beneath my fingers with a satisfying _snap, snap_. I shook the bedroll vigorously over the grass at my feet, watching in satisfaction as several dead leaves and other random bits of detritus fell out. Careful to avoid any large lumps or stones, I laid the bedroll down, straightening the edges as best I could. I also kept a wary eye out for any sign of bugs nearby, because the last thing I needed was some unreachable itch to scratch on the long trip back to Skyhold. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any here; or at least none that were interested in me. Taking a final, furtive glance around the clearing to make sure I was alone, I sat down, sticking both my legs straight out and reaching for my toes. A cool breeze ruffled my hair as I breathed deeply, letting the aches and pains from the day’s ride slowly work themselves out. Horses were lovely creatures, but they were a trial on your thighs.

Back at camp, I’d raised a few eyebrows when I’d spun a completely unbelievable story about going to scout for minerals. Luckily, everyone was in such a good mood that all I got were a few smiles and knowing looks, then everyone had gotten on with their business. I counted myself lucky that none of my companions had been within earshot. Soldiers and recruits wouldn’t question me, but absolutely _none_ of my friends would have let me get away with such an obvious lie. At best, they would have wanted to join me; and at worst, they’d have insisted half the camp come along with us. As if somehow it wasn’t common knowledge that I could bury an arrow in an interloper’s eye before they even realized they’d been seen.

When I was satisfied with the state of my legs, I stretched my arms up above my head and leaned back a little, groaning appreciatively as my back popped in several places. Thusly limbered, I let myself lie back, resting my head on the bedroll’s small pillow. As I closed my eyes, the wispy clouds above finally parted, letting through the sunlight behind them. I smiled, reveling in the way the heat blossomed across my cheeks. It slowly seeped into the rest of my body, covering me better than any blanket ever could. No matter how many fires we lit or furs we piled on our beds, Skyhold was still a cold castle nestled between even colder mountains, and feeling the sun’s warmth on my skin was a blessing long overdue.

I’d been reluctant to stop and break camp at first, since anytime I found myself somewhere nice, it inevitably turned out to be either an ambush or a demon-infested burial ground. But once we’d found the stream, it was impossible _not_ to stop. The horses needed water and everyone was feeling restless by then. And the stream was such a happy little thing, babbling along in its rocky bed with pretty flowering trees dotting its mossy banks. Not exactly a demon-infested locale. It was the kind of place you’d expect artists-in-training to flock to, or a Chantry to be built around. I could practically hear the Revered Mother sending initiates to go and recite The Chant by the side of it.

After that, the shady trees and the echo of birdsong had been too much for me to resist. I’d waited until everyone was relaxed and the tents had been set up, then started surreptitiously gathering my things. I planned on being gone for at least an hour; more if I could manage it. That was when the bedroll had given me away. It had been the final addition to my bundle of goods, but it was also the most conspicuous. One of the new recruits had spotted me almost instantly, then started asking questions before she realized who she was talking to. I’d just kept silent, smiling at her until her mind caught up with her eyes and she figured out who I was. Her embarrassed blush was very endearing.

The sun was so bright now, that even my hair was starting to feel warm. Perfect.

In fact, everything about this place was perfect. A lopsided oval of grass, filled with sunlight and shade; surrounded on all sides by bushes, wildflowers, and tall, solid trees with fluttering, shining leaves. Despite being only a stone’s throw away from the stream and the camp, I could just barely hear the stream chattering away in its rocky bed, along with the occasional shout from the soldiers or whinny from our horses. I felt as though I had found a little pocket in the world--still part of it, but far enough removed to have as much privacy as I wanted. And that, of course, was the entire point.

Private moments weren’t something I’d even realized were missing until I’d retired to my quarters in Skyhold one night and, for once, remained _completely_ undisturbed. No scouting reports. No important letters or invitations from the Empress’ thirteenth half-cousin (twice removed). No prisoners to stand in judgement of. No offers of rare merchandise on sale in the back-end of beyond. No spirits, demons, Rifts, or even so much as a ghost story. Not even Cullen had stopped by, apparently kept elsewhere by his duties. It was just me, my pajamas, a hot bath, and the disturbing realization that I had time to _read_.

The book in question was with me now, in fact; though the sunlight felt so good and I was so relaxed already I wasn’t sure if I could even be bothered cracking it open. The plot was mediocre and the characters were mostly self-absorbed assholes that I could barely stand, but I didn’t care. It was a _book_. And I was _reading_ it. I wasn’t throwing it at the head of some demon in a desperate bid to save my life, or locking it away from some power-hungry mage, or studying its dark secrets in the hopes of strengthening the Inquisition. I was just...reading it. A regular, completely normal book that someone had apparently put in my room along with the shelf full of _other_ regular, completely normal books that I had spent the last few months being entirely too busy to notice. At some point, either I or one of the servants (or, if I was especially unlucky, one of the people I assumed Leliana had regularly checking my room) moved it to the bedside table, and thus began our strange relationship.

I clasped my hands across my stomach, slowly massaging my fingers. Yawning, I wondered if I’d end up falling asleep out here. There were worse fates. I took a deep breath, inhaling the heady smell of wildflowers and unique sweetness of warm grass. Above me, the trees whispered with their rustling leaves, telling me tales of years long past and weary travelers like myself who had stopped to take refuge beneath their gentle gaze. Warmth suffused every part of my body, and I stretched again. I imagined myself becoming part of the ground; an Inquisitor-shaped stone resting on the grass, soaking up the sunlight for all of time. They could build a little dais around me, and bring children to pat the Herald of Andraste on her stony head. Wouldn’t that be adorable. Perhaps someday, a bold adventurer would come along and plant a flag next to me, claiming the landmark of my immobile body the same way the Inquisition claimed landmarks throughout the forgotten places of Thedas.

A gentle breeze sighed through the clearing, bringing a fresh round of commentary from the trees. I liked to think they approved of my torpor, accepting me into their ranks with a quiet pleasure.

Wiggling my legs a little to reposition, I felt my hip brush up against the book. I smiled. Carrying it around with me had been a chore, to be certain, but at the same time it had felt strangely _right_. Growing up in Ostwick, reading had been one of my favorite activities; though I remembered several occasions when I’d gotten in trouble for trying to read things that weren’t exactly Chantry-approved. To this day, the sound of turning pages brought back vivid memories of my early adulthood, much of it spent next to the fireplace or a flickering candle, lost in the imaginary worlds of others.

That night in my quarters, the realization of how long it had been since I’d been able to just sit and read was...bitter. Even before the events at the Conclave, my life had been crowded with social functions, defending against the war, archery training, and of course preparing for how I was to act in the presence of The Divine. Somehow I had found myself responsible for a rather large chapter of House Trevelyan, many of whom I barely knew. That meant smiling sweetly while deflecting yet another question about why I wasn’t a Sister yet; why I wasn’t married yet; why didn’t I have children yet; why _did_ I prefer burying arrows into target dummies rather than studying the Chant like a good girl?

As most nobility will tell you, it is often the politest questions which make the deepest cuts.

In their own cruel way, the events at the Conclave had been liberating. The thought made me a little sick, but it was true. And while I was aware of how dangerous it was to be someone who literally couldn’t be questioned, it would have been a lie if I didn’t admit that, in many ways, becoming the Inquisitor had given me a newfound sense of peace. There was a lot to be said for being the person who makes the decisions, instead of being someone who can only respond. _“Sometimes a limb must be broken so that it can be reset,”_ Cassandra had said to me once. I loved my family, and I mourned those who had been lost. And yet...

But I hadn’t really stopped to consider the lack of privacy. The deep sense of guilt that had settled over me as I picked up that book in my quarters was disturbing. Had I really changed so much that the idea of doing something I’d spent my whole life enjoying was now a source of shame? I’d had to put the book down several times, just to check and make sure that someone wasn’t hiding in the shadows, waiting to point and laugh at the grand practical joke they’d pulled. And yet, I hadn’t even blinked when Cassandra had admitted how much she liked to read. In fact, I’d found it rather endearing. So why was _I_ so ashamed?

The answer was obvious, of course. I was The Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. My entire life now revolved around doing Important Things, and sitting down by the fire with a mediocre book wasn’t anywhere on that list. But once I’d started, it was like taking a bite out of those delicious little cakes Josephine kept ordering. One moment of privacy was never enough. And so here I was now, stealing more moments for myself, drinking in the sun and the fresh breeze like a thirsty traveler. The world could surely spare me for an hour or two every day. And even if it couldn’t...well, too bad. Taking these moments for myself felt like reuniting with an old friend. Never again would I underestimate the importance of simply being _alone_.

I sighed. The sun’s warmth had completely consumed me now. All desire to move, think, or feel had vanished. I let my mind drift on its own, directionless, to whatever whim pleased it. They washed over me like a river: Fragmented visions of Skyhold; completed missions; amusing conversations; snatches of tavern songs. They all flickered behind my eyes, bold and reckless and thoroughly out of order. Another breeze stirred the wildflowers, and all at once I was back in Ostwick again, sampling perfumes before a ball. A particularly boisterous shout from camp reminded me of drunken revels in The Herald’s Rest. The _tap-tap-tap_ of a bird boring a hole in some unlucky tree trunk brought to mind the sound of wood splitting--which reminded me, I needed to talk to someone about fixing a hole in the roof of a certain Commander’s room...

_Snap._

I opened my eyes, regretting the decision instantly as the bright sun hit them. Dazed, I closed them again and--under great protest--rolled onto my side, hand slipping over the hilt of a dagger lying next to me. No sense in relaxing unprepared.

“Who’s there?” I called, squinting.

A loud sigh. “Someone who’s apparently not as light on his feet as he used to be,” grumbled a familiar voice.

I groaned, releasing the dagger and rolling back onto the bedroll, eyes closed again. So much for privacy. “Hello, Varric. I assume something is on fire?”

“Well, not as far as I know. Though it’s after midday, so Hawke’s probably blown something up by now.” I heard grass rustling as he came closer. The trees whispered above us, and I imagined them taking exception to the dwarf’s heavy boots clobbering their slender fellows.

“So!” Varric said, a familiar note of amusement in his voice. “Look at you, being all normal. Sneaking off to take a nap in the sun? What’s next--laughing at jokes? Singing a merry tune?”

I sighed, throwing my arm over my eyes to shield them from the light. “Even Andraste had her hobbies. And I already sing merry tunes, unless you’ve forgotten that little party Bull arranged last week.”

“Pfah, who could forget that? There were people literally swinging from the rafters.”

“I know, I asked Sera not to do that anymore unless the floor was _actually_ covered in pitch.” I yawned, warmth getting the better of me once again. “What brings you out here to my quiet spot?” I said, hoping Varric was smart enough to detect the gentle undercurrent of _mine_ and _quiet_.

“Chuckles was going on about some cluster of noble elfroot or spindle-whatsit, or maybe it was that one thing that makes your skin feel like you rolled around in sand naked for half an hour. I forget the name.”  There was a loud _whoof_ of air as Varric gracelessly set himself down next to me, fiddling loudly with one of Bianca’s many attachments. No undercurrents detected, then. “So I came out here to try and search for it in the hopes of making him feel better...or at least getting him to shut up for awhile.”

I opened my left eye just a fraction and squinted at him, still prone. “You want Solas to talk _less_? Maker, Varric, if he gets any quieter we’ll have to start counting how many times he blinks.”

He chuckled at that. I heard a soft _thunk-thunk_ and looked down to see him tapping on the cover of my book. “Ahh, what have we here? A book? And it isn’t one of _mine?_ Inquisitor.” He clicked his tongue in mock disgust. “You’re cheating on me.”

I felt a sudden stab of self-consciousness, but I knew from experience that any sign of embarrassment would just make him even more obnoxious. “Don’t worry. Just something I shoved into my pack at the last minute,” I lied.

He picked it up, turning it over and inspecting it carefully. “Did Curly get you this? Seems like his type of thing. Duty, swords, and then some more duty added on for good measure.”

Automatically, I opened my mouth to deny it, but then stopped myself. It had never occurred to me that the book wasn’t one of mine. And that would explain why it was on the bedside table, instead of over on the shelf...

I shot up, covering my mouth with my hands. “Oh, _shit._ ”

Varric was already grinning. “Inquisitor...did you do what I think you did?”

“I didn’t _mean_ to, but...”

“You stole his book?”

“...I stole his book.” I whispered, wide-eyed.

There was a pause, and then Maker help me, I giggled. As soon as the first one was out, it was all over. Another, then another, and soon we were both laughing so loudly, a flock of birds started out of a nearby bush.

“I _stole_ his _book_ ,” I gasped between sobs of laughter.

I fell backwards onto my bedroll, tears streaming down my face, gasping so hard my head and sides ached. _Maker._ So much for my attempt at revisiting simpler times. Still, though--I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d laughed so hard, and it felt good. Maybe privacy wasn’t _everything._

Using a patch of my shirt, I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to remember how to breathe normally. By now, Varric had regained control of himself, before falling backwards into the grass same as me. I was surprised; usually he was first in line to complain about things like dirt, rocks, and the possibility of bugs in one’s hair. The good weather must be affecting him too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him lift the book over his head, flipping through the pages. He paused on one. “ _Ser Rogier was a cur and a scoundrel, and carried with him a smell like rotten potatoes. It would be not only my duty but my pleasure to face him in deadly combat for his misdeeds. As I sharpened my sword, I thought on how furious his words had made me, and was determined to quell the hammering in my breast by stopping the hammering in his._ Andraste’s dimpled ass, Inquisitor, are you sure this isn’t a romance novel? Phrasing like this usually means there’s a quivering bosom about to show up any minute.” He flipped forward a few more pages. “Oh, nevermind. Here it is.”

I sighed, praying for the Maker to grant me a swift and merciful death, preferably before my dwarven friend got any further along in the novel. “I know, it’s terrible,” I said. I finished wiping my eyes. “All any of the characters ever do is parade around, rattling their swords at each other and starting duels. I don’t even know how it got published.”

He made a disapproving sound. “They’ll put anything on shelves these days. I should know.”

An awful thought struck me. “Oh, Maker...” I rolled onto my side, staring at Varric. “Does Cullen know I have it!? I’ve been dragging it along with me for over a week now. He has to have noticed it’s missing, doesn’t he?” Another horrible thought struck me. “Varric. What happens if he asks me what I think of it?”

“In that case, Inquisitor...I suggest you lie. A lot.”

I groaned. “I can’t lie to Cullen! It’s like kicking a puppy! And I’m a terrible liar, anyway. You know this.”

Varric grinned. “That’s what makes it so believable. No one will see it coming!”

I rolled onto my back again, palm covering my eyes in shame. “This is it, Varric. He’s never going to forgive me. I’ve stolen his favorite book; not only that, I _despise_ it.”

“He could hate it too, you know.”

I snorted. “Oh, please. There’s an entire chapter where the main character gives up true love just to stay loyal to his commanding officer.” I sighed. “There’s no way he doesn’t adore it.”

“In that case, I suggest nudity.”

“ _ **Varric!**_ ” I gave him a look which has curdled the hearts of stouter men.

He held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying, distractions can be easier than lies! Kick it under the bed while he’s looking...somewhere else. Then act surprised when he finds it later. Everything’ll be _fine._ ”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, grinding my teeth. “Maker’s breath, Tethras. I am going to throw you into a Rift next chance I get.”

“Good idea! Make sure I’m holding the book when you do, that’ll solve the whole problem right there.”

I ripped up a handful of grass and threw it at him.

 

 


End file.
